Hamdha’s Diary
Life in Colombo was so different for us from our life in Marudur. In the evenings after attending lectures at the university, I was home . We had our privacy in our Colombo home, as my mother always wished to have.
This Colombo house of ours was my mother’s share of inheritance from her father.
My father did not have any community responsibility here, at least so far. He had plenty of time to fully concentrate on his business activities. For my mom’s joy, he had become a full-time businessman again.
My brother also came home these days. He did not have to stay outside anymore. He came home unusually straight after finishing his work. No one dared to talk to him about Rushdha’s sister. He also did not utter a single word about her. There was an uncomfortable silence within the walls of our home.
I have never seen my elder brother this way.
He looked more mature than before.
He went to bed early and got up early. He had got used to a well-disciplined routine that was not part of him that I knew.
He regularly attended congregational prayers in the mosque, not always for dawn prayers, though. He was increasingly interested in our father’s business activities.
My elder brother has always been a take-it-easy boy. He never takes anything seriously or never behave responsibly. I wondered what could have made this positive change in his behaviour now. Sometimes I thought he might pretend to be neat and disciplined for a particular reason of some sort. But, the same routine continued almost for a week since we shifted to Colombo.
I was happy for his change if it was only real.
In fact, both my parents were happy about him.
I could sense the normalcy and the happiness returning to our house. For almost ten days we were grieving for all the things that happened before.
I did not expect our shift to Colombo could have made our life lesser burdened. All bitter things that had occurred in Marudur sounded like a distant dream now, as if nothing happened. Over time, I will forget everything, including Minhaj.
I will get married soon to someone from the reputable social and financial background of my parents. I will settle in an overseas country, leaving my country behind where I was born and brought up. God alone knows what the future holds for me.
My dad used to drop me, in his van, at the university daily in the morning. Our Colombo house was closer to the campus. So, there was no need for me to stay at the hostel with other Marudur girls.
The only thing I missed in my Colombo home was my Marudur friends. I could meet Rushdha almost everyday in the week, because we study in the same faculty. But, I missed other girls in the hostel, including Shakira.
I just eagerly wanted to meet all girls.
My anger with Shakira also had almost disappeared.
She would not have any reasons to be angry with me either. My father has now left his leadership role in the village. Now Shakira’s father and his men could manage the village affairs, as they always wished. My father is no longer a threat to their positions.
Next week I have the semester exam. Coincidentally, the exam falls for many of the girls in the hostel in the same week. So, most of them spent their weekends in the hostel in Colombo and did not go home.
Rushdha and I take the same courses in the psychology department. She invited me to do some combined studies in the hostel.
Rushdha was having a terrible time with other girls. She has been going through the same hardship that I went through when Shakira’s father got attacked. But, Rushdha had no one on her side, as she stood on my side before. So, I decided to spend a few days in the hostel.
My father took me and dropped me off at the hostel this Sunday morning.
It was a lazy rainy morning in Colombo. I like these rainy mornings because otherwise, I can’t bear the heat of the burning hot Colombo Sun.
It was a combined study only for the sake of its name.
The girls were talking and gossiping about everything other than their studies.
Shakira studies law.
Rushdha and I study psychology. But Shakira strangely joined us for the so-called ‘combined studies’. I could apparently feel she deliberately wanted to pretend to be very friendly.
“Under the personal Muslim law in Sri Lanka, a Muslim girl cannot get married without her father’s permission, I mean a legal guardian,” Shakira said. I was simply wondering why she brings this thing into the conversation.
“Aaha…”
“Then, there was a court decision in 1950”.
“In 1950?”
“Yeah, the case is known as Adbul Cader vs. Razik. You know every case in a court of law has a name?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, this case said that a girl who follows Hanafi school of Islam, I mean Hanafi Madh’hab, could get married without her father’s permission”.
“But, according to Shafie school, a girl cannot get married without her father’s permission, right?” I asked.
Rushdha interrupted. “I took Islam for my advanced levels. Ubaidullaah Hazrath was teaching us. I asked him about this. He said the majority of the schools of thought does not recognize a girl getting married without a ‘Wali’. He said the view of Hanafi school is not correct”.
“Maybe, but that’s not the point, girls,” Shakira smiled broadly, “I have a cousin-brother from Kegalle. He is a relative on my mother’s side. He is in medical faculty”.
“Aaha”.
“Once he proposed to me”.
“Really?” we exclaimed.
“Yeah, my father terribly hates his family. So, I said my father would never agree to our marriage. You know what he said? He said we will get married according to Hanafi Madh’hab. I told him to get lost,” Shakira laughed loudly.
“Why didn’t you try to convince your father? I mean this cousin brother of yours will be a doctor in future. Maybe your father could have agreed,” Rushdha asked.
“You don’t know about my father. He never compromises. But, I know how to convince him. That is a different story. But, the real thing was I never liked that fellow. He is a bookish kind and a mummy’s boy. He never got any guts to confront his mother. He can’t speak with any one’s eyes without his tongue stuttering. I wonder how he got the guts to propose to me. Idiot cousin”.
“But, he is going to be a medical doctor, isn’t he?” Rushdha asked again.
“It’s like this, girls. I want a husband who is under my control. Maybe a school teacher is fine. A doctor..! I don’t think a doctor will suit me. When he gets money and influence, he will try to dictate to me. I can’t even think of this idiot giving orders to me, to do this and that. I don’t need anyone else's money. I am going to be a lawyer. I will earn enough on my own”.
Shakira always talked about power when it comes to marriage. For me, it sounds absurd.
Marriage is about mutual love and trust. How can a relationship of this sort survive when both marriage partners fight with each other for power?
I simply smiled, for I did not want to argue with Shakira. After all, She is a would-be lawyer. How could I argue with her? She will eventually win any argument if there is any. Debating is her strong territory. All I knew was empathy and listening. Because I am not a law student, I am a psychology student. (Law students, don’t take this seriously. I am just joking).
We were passing our time this way talking and laughing. It started getting darker in the evening, even before sunset. It was raining heavily outside.
A girl came to our room nervously. “Flood… flood in the village,” she screamed.
We came to know that the whole Firdaws Garden in Marudur had drowned under the water. The atmosphere within the hostel suddenly changed.
Some of the girls in the hostel were from Firdaws garden in Marudur.
They were frightened.
They were weeping and sobbing.
Some of them cried and screamed.
The agony was unbearable.
They tried to contact their families. Mobile networks were down. Most of them got the monotonic reply, “the number you are calling is switched-off or not in a service area. Please try again later”. Auto-reply was irritatingly repeated in all three languages.
Another extremely shocking news was awaiting us the next morning. Shakira's father had gone missing.
“What the hell did you people do to my father?” Shakira was pathetically screaming at me and Rushdha, “don’t do anything to him. Give him back, please, I beg you people, please, please, please, give him back. Don’t do anything to my father, please”.
((To be Continued...))
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Next chapter: chapter 23 (3) - the arrests
Previous chapter : chapter 23 (1) - the disappearance
* Characters, events and the places in this story are fictional and a mere product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or characters is merely coincidental.
** Vijayapura and Marudur are fictional places.
Riza Jaufer
Akurana -Kandy,
Sri Lanka
